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Cl^ts (Ebition is sSimitcb 
to 250 copies 

<L[iis copy is T(o. 



Copyriglnt, i8q7. 
By LKE SANDERS F'RATT 



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editor 



LEE SANDERS PRATT 



Contributors 



" Call him, if you please, a bookmaker, 
not an author."— Fo//«/V^. 



"Why did I write? What sin to me unknown 
Dipt me in ink, my parents' or my own?" 

—Pope. 



publishers: 



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" Thoug-h an ang-el should write, 
Still 'tis devils must print." 

— To7n Moore. 



Distributor: 



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Buyers 



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through the world." 

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" I would earnestly advise them, for 
THEIR GOOD, to order this book to be 
punctually served up."— ^tW/>c>«. 



INTRODUCTION 

"O wad some Power the giftic gie us 
To see oorse/'s as ithers see 7ts." 

r'HIS VOLUME is the answer to that prayer. In 
glad surprise has our sight been greeted, from time 
to time, ''with familiar home-names in periodicals 
coming to us from distant cities, subscribing a poem 
in graceful guise, a classic tale, a song or lettered 
page of surpassing beauty. But <what profit that a 
melodious chord be struck here and there to vibrate for a 
moment on the sated ear of indifference and then, un- 
sustained, to die into silence, — cui bono? Why not, rather, 
unite these scattered strains into a symphony that should 
delight the ear and touch the heart of those <Tvho knom) 
and lo<ve the singers? 

Herein lies the ra.ison d 'etre of the little book to Tvhich 
this page is the simple introduction. It is an attempt to 
gather and set forth in one collation a portion of the rich 
literary fruitage of our fair city, — incomplete, to be sure, 
but perhaps in sufficient abundance to cheer our authors 
m)ith the heartening thought that here exists a true fel- 
lo<TVship of letters, a literary coterie of no mean order. 
And may our little band ''take heart of grace " from this 
look into one another's faces, this grasp of congenial 
hands. So shall it be that, fa-vorably as the city is al- 
ready kno^wn for the excellence of its ^work in current 
literature, the publication of these ''Specimen Bits" <witl 
mark a ne^w epoch in our literary history, 

If^wecan, then, recognize in this garnered sheaf some- 
thing of the beauty and merit -which others ha-ve often 
observed in our single flo<wers of thought, ^when they 
grev) and blossomed apart, the ''giftie" nvill not have 
been bestovoed in vain. 



Excerpts from Various ^ 
Lectures by T)r, 'Bateman 
Inferring to Knox Col^ 
lege and its Students ^ ^ 





-^^Ibe three folloaniui; pacjes 
are ^e!^icate^ to Kno.v ^oU 
lege, untl] tl]e hope an'b 
prayer that these morbs of 
Dx. i^ateman, that beautiful 
aiib ijcntle spirit tt^hofc life 
maf an iufpiratiou a\\<:> a 
beuebictioti, may incite his 
''bear boys aiib airls " to 
hiahcr anb nobler firing anh 
to more earnest berotion to 
the iloUecje that he loreb. -f 



^ 






mm 







(£IosttKn Paac of a '^cctiu'C 
e^tttIe^ "Kno.v (lollccjc" 

Delivered in chapel. "Sept. T, 18'>3" 

Give to this noble school your loving- confidence- 
she is worthy of it. Give her 3'our active influence- 
she needs it. Speak, write, work for her; rally 
around her; do what you can for her. For thus you, 
her literary children, can do more for her speedy en- 
larg-enient than all other forces combined. 



^rorn a siecturc erttitlcb 

" Suggestions to Stubciits " 

Given in chapel, " vSept. 6, 1888'' 

This is a Christian College in the broad, catholic, 
blessed and precious sense of the word. We joyfully 
recog-nize and earnestly seek to honor and enthrone 
here the God of Heaven and His Son, Jesus Christ, 
and the sublime precepts and principles of the 
Christian relig-ion. 

IN SPEAKING OF THE MORNING CHAPEL SERVICES: 

We come here to meet our Father in Heaven, the 
Maker of all thing's, and Him who is the Way and 
the Truth and, the Life. We come as worshippers, 
and for the time being- this is none other than the 
house of God. But I would that when we come 
hither, to seek our Heavenly Father's blessing for 
the day, we mig-ht all feel a certain softening and 
subduing- influence stealing- over us, a certain pres- 
ence belong-ing to the place, stilling- the tumult of 
our thoughts and bringing to our hearts that sweet 
receptive hush, in which the voice of conscience, which 
is none other than the voice of God in the soul, ma3' 
be heard. God will surely bless — does always bless — 
every such willing and waiting heart. No student 
can spend the few allotted moments of this service 
in such a frame of miild, without feeling the hallowed 
touch of an unseen but gracious hand npon the 



chofds of his heart, without hearing- the soft, sweet 
call of heavenly voices biddinj^'- him live a truer, 
manlier, nobler, holier life, without being- uplifted, 
calmed and streng-thened. And he will g-o to his rec- 
itations and studies clearer in mental vision, stronger 
in worthy purposes, and braver and happier in 
heart. 

It is "lovely and of g-ood report," always and in all 
thing's to be mindful of the feeling's and of the com- 
fort and convenience of others with whom we aie 
associated, — that is, to do to them as we would that 
they should do to us in like circumstances. Taking-, 
then, along with us the Golden Rule that He has 
g-iven us, let us see how like an ang-el monitor it will 
follow us evervwhere, throug-h and about this build- 
ing- and these g-rounds, leaving- peace and order and 
sunshine in its path. 

THE CLOSING WORDS OF THE LECTUKE: 

And so, all day and every day, if we will only 
think,, we shall be sure to do those "things which are 
lovely and of good report," — becoming more court- 
eous, more refined, nobler types of what the ameni- 
ties of culture can do; more thoughtful, more mindful 
of others, worthier representatives of this Christian 
college. 



^rom a ^Scctiirc 

*' Qbricc to 5tubent; 



Given in chapel, " Sept. 4, 1890 " 

Begin right, and keep right, and hold on and hold 
out, to the end. Do not relax 3'our grasp, do not 
grow careless, do not think it a little matter to slur 
over a lesson, to cut a recitation, to shirk a college 
dut3% now and then. It is not a little matter, — it is 
the beginning of a habit which, if not checked, will 
steadily and rapidly increase. 

The brightest, gladdest, happiest persons I know 
are the college boys and girls who are conscious of 
trying to do their whole duty. 



^roni a s£ccture cntitIc^ 

*' CEbc dnic Strength of clollege? " 

Given "Thursday. Nov. 6, 1884" 

Christ and culture, relig-ion and learnin;tr, nature 
and revelation, the works and word of God, — these 
are the leg^ends inscribed on these walls, *the princi- 
ples that hold sway in the beliefs and teaching-s of 
this School. Sound learning- and a pure faith, the 
life that now is, and also that which is to come, the 
temporal and the eternal, the seen and the unseen, — 
these are some of the watchwords of Knox CoUeg-e, 
some of the pairs of fundamental truths which here 
have glad and hearty recog-nition. 

^from Cmo 
(lalifoniia ^iccture? 

SPEAKING OF THE FAREWELL SCENE AT THE GALESBUKG 

DEPOT WHEN HE WAS SETTING OUT ON HIS 

JOURNEY TO CALIFORNIA: 

And there, too, were some of the class of '78, my 
own boys, God bless them. Did ever teacher have 
such boys and g-irls as I have had and still have, in 
Knox Colleg-e, anvway? Thev are just a solid com- 
fort. 

SPEAKING OF THE REV. DR. WARREN, OF SAN MATEO, 

A QRADUATE OF KNOX COLLEGE, OF 

THE CLASS OF '47: 

He was full of interest in and inquiries about his 
Alma Mater, and upon my telling- him how well we 
were getting- along- and what a g-lorious company of 
lads and lassies we had here, he proposed that his 
daughter should play and we all sing- that g-lorious 
battle-hymn of ours, 

"Here's to Good did Knox." 

The young- lady stepped to the piano, and we sang- 
till the San Mateo hills fairly rang- ag-ain; and with 
that song-, identified with an institution whose wel- 
fare is my daily and' nightly thought, for a benedic- 
tion, we exchang-ed g-ood nig-hts. 



TABLE OF CONTENTS: 



Entrre 

Tribute to the Fi,ag . 

How I Got the Outside Seat [■ 

Verses ' 

In Historic Dai^ecari^ia 

A Vision of Santa Ci^aus 

A LuiyLABY 

The Pi^aint of the IvEaves - 
The Scarf of the Demoiseli^e 

" PiTTYPAT AND TiPPYTOE " - 

The Brownies on Our Street 

I^iTTivE Things - 

IviNCoivN AT Gettysburg 

An Evergreen - 

The Passing of Cadmus 

The Fir Tree - 

The Meteor 

A Reverie by the Heather 

To the Daisy 

An ImmorteIvI^E 

The Home Coming of Thorstein 

Little Footsteps 
The Sun's Wooing 
GaIvEsburg's Mii.tons 
Notes 



Neivton Bateman 



Pages. 

10 



11-18 



Hjalmar Simdquist 


19-21 


Philip G. Wright 


22-23 


Marie Zettcrberg 


24-25 


John Huston Finley - 


26 


Mary C. Hurd 


27-30 


Clara Gordon Coulson 


31-35 


Elizabeth Clark 


36^37 


Julia Fletcher Carney 


38 


Clark E, Carr 


39-40 


Helena Crumett-Lee - 


41-45 


Earnest Elmo Calkins 


46-48 


Alice B. Gushing 


49-51 


Frank Hinckley Sisson 


52 


Janet Greig 


53-54 


Marie Ze tier berg 


55 


Annie Bateman Ewart 


56-57 


Ericsson 




Win. E. Simonds 


58-67 


Lee S. Pratt 


68 


Wm. F. Bent ley 


69-71 

72 


\ 


73-76 



^LC\f^^i^ H^i^ l^lTTtL C^C^K^i^ (\\x^2X'j /^^3 



Cvv^ M^ £i5^ U*^ U^.^ , 1^ iiz^ 



HOW I GOT THE OUTSIDE SEAT 

a MEMORABLE episode of my stay on the Pa- 
cific coast was a visit to Pescadero, some seventy- 
five miles from San Francisco. The route is 
by the cars of the Southern Pacific to San Mateo, thence 
by stag-e to Pescadero, about thirty-five miles away. 

Having- received timely notice of the desirableness of 
securing- an outside seat, and of the rush there would be 
for that coveted advantag-e upon the arrival of the train at 
San Mateo, I was ready for action. As the train was being- 
" slowed up" to the station, I was on the lowest step of the 
platform, satchel in hand, ready for a spring-. The moment 
we reached the first end of the platform I leaped ashore and 
made for the stag-es, which were in plain sig-ht on the hill 
some two hundred yards away. Now, two hundred yards 
was precisely the leng-th of the course on which I had made 
my best and most famous time in my racing- da3^s when in 
colleg-e; and as my 'eye measured the distance and took in 
the situation — as the value of the prize of victory, (an out- 
side seat for a six hours' ride over one of the finest mountain 
roads in California), came into the field of mental vision — 
as I thoug-ht of the laurels I had won, time and ag-ain, over 
that two-hundred-yard stadium in Illinois Colleg-e, (for, 
incredible as it may seem to you long--metre g-entlemen 
that a man of such Zacchean altitude should achieve renown 
as a runner, I do assure you that I wore that champion-belt 
for nearly two years over one hundred and sixty competi- 



tors) — as Verg-il's account of the last mag-nificent spurt 
made by old Entellus in his boxing- bout with the boasting- 
Dares, came to my mind, (and here jou see one of the many 
incidental benefits of classical study) — as I thoug-ht of 
"Good old Knox," and that for the time being- her honor 
and prestig-e were in my especial keeping-, and that they 
must and should be sustained — and as I thoug-ht of the keen 
delig^ht it would be to tell the story, if peradventure I should 
succeed — as these thoug-hts and memories, and other throng- 
ing- visions and fancies flashed throug-h my brain in a mil- 
lionth part of the time it has taken to write them, I resolved 
to reach those stages in advance of all other persons, of what- 
soever race, ag-e, color, sex, or previous condition. And 
the way this chronicler, (for, alas, there is no other histor- 
ian to record the deed and send it to posterity and g-lory) — 
the way this chronicler did pick up and put down his feet 
for the next two or three minutes would have filled even 
you winged young Mercuries, (please notice another classi- 
cal reference); would have filled even you swift-footed 
Hectors, (again, as I live; you must excuse me, there is such 
a fascination about Homer and Vergil — they are such an 
unwasting source of telling metaphors and matchless tropes 
and similes); would have filled even you, (there now, I have 
cut loose from Greece and Rome at last) — rwould have filled 
even you, familiar as you are with feats of prowess and dar- 
ing, with astonishment, perchance with envy. 

The slight advantage I had secured by being ready to 
jump ashore the moment the train came alongside the plat- 
form, was improved to the utmost. Looking over my 
shoulder, I saw my competitors in the race, seven men and 



three women, sweeping after me and converg-ing- towards 
the common goal — the stages. It became evident, in a 
moment, that mj most dangerous riv^als were two men and 
a woman, who were pressing me hard. The woman w^as a 
very Anne of Geierstein for fleetness and endurance; she ran 
like a deer, while her laughter rang out in the most mock- 
ing and contagious manner^ — though I must confess that I 
had other uses for all my breath just then. A moment 
more and she had left the two men behind and was actually 
gaining on the Galesburg athlete! Must he, then, be 
beaten at last, and by a woman? Perish the thought! 
But what was to be done? She was already so near that the 
very color of her ribbons and eyes was plainly discernible, 
and, alas, she was gaining fast. But one recourse was left 
me; I hated to resort to it, but hated more to be beaten, 
for by this time the others had given up the contest and the 
air was filled with shouts from the crowds on the plat- 
form and about the stages as they witnessed the race. 
So when within about fifty feet of the stages I threw 
away my valise, made a last desperate spurt, and got 
in ahead and secured the coveted outside seats. You should 
have heard that unconscionable damsel's shout of derisive 
laughter when that valise had to go! The whole thing 
was an unexpected and rare bit of fun, hugely enjoyed both 
by participants and spectators, one of the latter of w^hom 
was heard to remark that he "never saw a man of eighty 
run like that before." 

I was on my way to visit a college classmate living in 
Pescadero, whom I had not seen for many years. His 
daughter had joined me in San Francisco and was going 

16 



home for a brief vacation. She knew of m^' purpose to se- 
cure, at all reasonable hazards, outside seats for us both, 
and had witnessed the race as she came slowly on. In a 
few moments she arrived at the stag-es, bringing- that for- 
lorn looking- valise, and radiant with delig-ht at the brilliant 
triumph of her father's old college chum. 

I had been but just in time. The two seats I had se- 
cured were the only outside ones left in the two mountain 
stag-es. To admit a third with us would require a little 
C7'ozvdiug^ but when I saw the wistful face of the brave lit- 
tle woman who came so near to spoiling this story, as she 
was about entering one of the coaches there to be impris- 
oned for six hours, I held a briet consultation with my 
protege, and we unanimously decided to invite the lady to 
share our seat on the hurricane deck of the stage. She ac- 
cepted, with thanks. In genuine western style, we sever- 
ally introduced ourselves, and a most agreeable and enter- 
taining travelling companion she proved to be. 

Newton BatExMAn. 



I^IFE THOUGHTS FROM DR. BATEMAN. 
For "Thk Quiet Hour": 

"The more complete our isolation, the more profound 
should be our listening-, — assured that the divine lips 
are ever close to our ears with a messag-e. This is just 
the way the great and g-ood have ascended the heig-hts 
of a faith on which the peace of God abides forever." 

For Crises in Life : 

" See to it that as you come to the g-reat moral dividing- 
ridg-es of life, the solemn moments of choice, you turn 
your faces toward the sunrise, not toward the sunset." 

17 



Tcrscs penned at pebble Beach, California 

Oh sobbing- sea — oh moaning- sea ! 
What bitter anguish grieveth thee ? 
Why goes the sound of wailing waves 
Resounding through thy hollow caves ? 
Why dost thou rise in threatening wrath, 
When angry tempests cross thy path — 
Aiming thy helpless wrath so high, 
Against the armies of the sky ? 

I, too, in wistful yearning wail, 
Because my hopes and longings fail — 
Because my cherished plans are lost, 
With all the labor they had cost. ^ 
And, when the adverse storms arise, 
I vent my wrath against the skies, 
And waste my strength in bitterness 
That does not make my burden less. 

Oh smiling sea — oh tender sea ! 
What wondrous beauty covers thee ! 
How softly blue thy depths appear, 
Thy dancing waves, how crystal clear ! 
How brightly doth the sunlight rest 
At last, upon thy quiet breast ! 
It is because thou liest still — ^ 
Submissive to thy Father's will. 

So I, at last, give up the strife- 
Give up the cherished plans of life; 
Yield every hope, each wild desire, 
And quench ambition's burning fire. 
When lo ! my chains no longer gall, 
My toils no longer fruitless fall; ^ 
And, in the place of storms, is given 
The everlasting- calms of heaven. 

— Newton Bateman. 



,^ .aV^^^-^^ 




""'^^^ZJi ^ 



In Historic Dalecarlia 



Not far from the city of Falun, on a beautiful headland 
at Lake Runn, is to be found one of the chief attractions 
for a visit to historic Dalecarlia. It is the old cottag-e at 
Ornas, where, nearly four hundred years ag-o, Gustavus 
Vasa was saved, and throug-h him the country, by the he- 
roic act of a noble woman, Barbro Stig-sdotter. It was dur- 
ing- those unhappy days when the Danish invaders had 
succeeded, throug-h cunning- and deceit, in capturing- every 
stronghold of Sweden, and the tyrannical Christian II ruled 
the country with unparalleled cruelty. The only man left 
to whom the stricken land could look for g-uidance, since 
ninety of its noblest men had been beheaded at the massacre 

19 



of Stockholm, was a young- noble, Gustavus Ericsson, known 
afterwards as the King-, Gustavus Vasa, the Father of his 
Country. But, at this time an outlaw, he was hunted like 
a wild beast, and in the woods of Dalecarlia he concealed 
himself, like the illustrious Alfred of Eng-land. One cold 
winter's nig-lit he came to Ornas, w^here, at the home of his 
old friend, Arendt Persson, he hoped to receive a shelter and 
refug-e. A warm welcome was g-iven him and he was hidden 
in the upper story of the cottag-e. Glad of having- found a 
friend to whom he could unfold his plans and look for sup- 
port in his efforts to save the country, he at once went to 
sleep. But the price set on his head was too much for his 
host; another Judas, he went and sold his master for thirty 
pieces of silver; but when the traitor came back with the 
pursuers to betray his g-uest and his country, the cag-e was 
empty, the bird had flown, and the world owed another debt 
of g-ratitude to noble and heroic womanhood ! 

Barbro Stig-sdotter, the wife of the deceitful Arendt, 
suspecting- her husband's wicked plans, had at once sum- 
moned her most faithful servant, Jacob, and as he stood 
below, with the fastest horse in the stable harnessed to the 
sleig-h, the noble woman, by means of a long- towel, lowered 
Gustavus, the fug-itive, to the g-round just in time to effect 
an escape from his pursuers as they entered the room. 

The old cottag-e is preserved in its orig-inal form as a 
precious relic of that troublous period. It is an old- 
fashioned log- house, at least four hundred years old, and 
contains a larg-e collection of mementoes of Gustavus Vasa 
and his times. It is interesting- to examine the arrows and 
cross-bows used by the brave Dalecarlians in repulsing- the 

20 



invaders, to try on the heavy iron helmet worn by Gustavus 
in the war for independence, and to lift the ghastly broad- 
axe which was used to cut off the heads of the nobles at 
the blood-bath of Stockholm. But those dismal times of 
conflict and tyrann}^ are now happily ended, and the sun 
shines as brig'htly over Orniis and its quaint little cottag-e 
as ever; while from the upper porch of that time-honored 
structure Lake Runn, with its g-reen arid smiling- shores, 
presents as peaceful and charming- a picture as one may 
ever see. 





^<a/^^aytyJ<^U^U^^^^^cd^ 




/\\/\S\Q\] OF ^Af^T/\ Gi-/\U 



Inaparlor, s>n^AM and. costj , 

Wilk its portieres and d-ra,ptr-u, 
Tts rvuelloiv, ■uellow, po-joery, 
l/twubrellcu sKa-de-d li(j.kl, 

Verw diunvd , Veri^ rosi^ , 

'Hound ike. lips, and hu-sij -worlii-i 
f Sa.iv- 3<i-^i^ Clavts last uiglvt. 





TVa.5 tlve So-inl ! J] mellow kcclo 

Jit^t ahove tke }iea,d was strea-rKviiozj 
'Twas tke so-int! "[ was Tust drea-m^lvug 
\}tlike, ^act wcus Xjovjyvq avui Jo-lr. 
Jinci ^s low tones Irom- tke cello 
Tkrill tts like a uew evcuvuael, 
po tli-vS Sweet ^actd okildre-n-'s ayw 
Wltk tke silver stranded Lxir. 




el 



^ 



'Twas tke scu-rvt? TLe well-]•C.Tl.owo^ -fealu,res ! 
How me love liakt strea-m-ed. in flaslues, 
JVeatV tke silken, s^^>^ken,lasJves, 
j'^s Ike Utsi^ Tinaers v/roi^i/kl ! 
Seaxl-£.yeoI- cciion. Wttina CT-eoiu-re-s, 
Do-intu rcL-lrieS, 5tarru-wande-d, 
Qvc£ens «a.7i^ paa<is, all re.sr)cn.d^e.cL 
To VSrue, sa,lnts creo-Kve -iiioziCjKh. 



Oe-r kls y,aXax^ i-rv ike A'orlL 
x/ ivd-Tj wowlJ^ sa-M -to ^TViJ. 'CuvtO'tker, 





"VVcvlCe-s Jro>w ^veri^ oLeo-r- ill-vusio-vv, 
Okoil'ers ev^ru -ToTv^i. -IcL^clL, 

J\ra-l>U,r ^lor-ij of ike 7-.ea,l. 

PKvUjD a .\, Elizotctl^ Q..6.Y/rlcjlvt . 











Ud' u, 



h infc even ^W pales \r\'Tfjc pIooha 
^ ihe latsl note of il-e wea.v'»ea bi'ow)-,— H^/uslp 
1 5 w"rti7 o V e a rn = /-n u.^ » c \b e v o o vt-j , 

rYh'lhl in -fiye Y-/^ 
In rac$<cxt;,Qe,"ih^ Jiv'sltv/ill^ln't 'oTqv' 
^];ocis "itr pu./e I'l^ir oe/ -i-ke nyoa^ly'g wly'ilr^VesI' 
l\eachmo Towax'O splenclovi ai<x/. 

^leep, my litttp one, sleep-, 
nKilsl" "the wipers Iceep 
vYcx.1cVi o'e/ Hlye Mosso nig-inal' d/owsily J^lII 
Ihto^a sleep -thar is d/eamlegs cxnci iecp, 
Wa'itiyd -Hye Hno/mnd's loN/e-call. 



Ul'eo-tTo, rny I'lttte one,o>'eam; 



Oi 1^e cv&scent' moon io-lls 077 "tj^c Wovl^^ 
yHS r),9lnl' ani^eU' wm6^ a\'e urji-uvi-ecl. 



THE 



Of 4i .ofeU,,, loJ' PlAlNTgA^ c,., b' b-| 






^^p!H'j^i,,7p._^*^ 7^'^, f=^„^^ "^v, '%x, •'li]) ;tt> 









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o.r^oi-HpwC-^^i.O! 
r-^. '<^'T °r '°T 

io lie. ^vjd yoT, 

jooK -^°i -^^t/ 






Of fill I'be^A 



"O VVl vps^ , We ■fei.v" 
"\/Ve'\/« \\\A<^ '\ri v4\i7- 
'"V/Ve <rlie 1-17 pfr-nrj. 

26 



I Ipe eirjs^ ; T7»-^ ye 1 1 









Iy^ pe*.5;e. 




'Che Scarf of the OcmoiscUc 

From the French of Jacques AviiL 



URING our last vacation in Normandy, 
that country where each pebble has its 
W legend and each wood its mystery, we 
were surprised one day by a storm and 
took refug-e in an old shepherd's cabin, where, pictur- 
esquely seated upon his ample cloak, we patiently awaited 
the end of the shower. 

Nothing could be more charming than this unexpected 
halt in the midst of green meadows with the intoxicating 
perfume of new-mown hay about us, while the great drops 
of the heavy summer's rain fell upon the trees with a tink- 
ling- sound as of mvsterious little bells in the hand of an 
invisible ringer. 

The shower, however, was soon past, and as a mag- 
nificent rainbow appeared above the woods across the now 
clear sk}^ the old man said, "It is all over, ladies. Do you 
see the Scarf of the Demoiselle? It is going to be fine 
now." 

"The Scarf of the Demoiselle?" said I, astonished. 

"Why yes! the rainbow! We call it the Scarf of the 
Demoiselle, here." And, without much urging the old 
shepherd, leaning upon his knotted staff, told us the follow- 
ing touching story: 

27 



"One beautiful summer's day, a long-, long- time ag-o, 
people were gleaning- in the 'Field of the Demoiselle'; it 
was a field that belong-ed in her own rig-ht to the daughter 
of the Castellan, who, since she was very kind, was wont 
at harv^est time to have the sheaves of ripened grain un- 
bound and to allow the poor of the neighboring villages to 
come and glean. Thus the whole harvest passed into their 
hands, not a single spike going into the seig-norial grana- 
ries. She loved to come and visit the gleaners, wearing a 
simple gown of fine wool and, as her only adornment, a 
scarf of white silk striped with the seven prismatic colors. 

"Now, this day, the oppressive heat presaged a storm, 
and the 3^oung girl was in the field with the gleaners when 
suddenly great clouds appeared. 

" 'Hasten my friends,' said she. 'You have only time 
to reach shelter,' and the gleaners dispersed. 

"But behold, yonder, toward the great hedge, appeared 
a marvelously beautiful young woman, with a veil about 
her head like the saints in the stained windows of our 
church. She held by the hand a little child more lovely 
than the angels, whose fair hair fell rippling over his 
snow-white robe. The sweet-voiced demoiselle advanced 
to meet them and, as it was not yet raining, invited them 
to glean. Both mother and child began to pick up the 
scattered spikes, laying them in a pile at the end of the 
field. Meanwhile large drops began to fall, but happily, 
in a corner near the wood, there was a great spreading oak 
under which they took refuge; for it was now raining fur- 
iously, the thunder rumbled in the distance and lightning 
flashed across the sky. As the child with his chubby hand 

2S 



raised his mother's veil to shelter his curly head beneath it, the 
demoiselle took off her scarf and with infinite pains wrapped 
it about his head and shoulders, placing- a kiss upon his brow. 

"Then, while the mother smiled sweetly, birds began 
to sing-, and mysterious voices, so tender and pure that hu- 
man ear had never heard anything like them, filled the air 
with an invisible and harmonious chorus. At the same 
time the rain ceased, the clouds disappeared and the de- 
moiselle suddenly noticed that her companions were no 
longer at her side. 

"She seemed to hear the passing of wings, and at the 
very spot where they had appeared, she saw the child and 
his mother gently rising upon fleecy clouds, surrounded by 
angels with azure wings and rosy-pinioned cherubim, all 
singing a glad hosanna as they mounted into the blue sky. 

"Near the horizon they stopped, and as the demoiselle, 
who had recognized the Virgin and Child Jesus, knelt upon 
the damp grain in mute adoration, the angels chanted in 
loud, clear tones, 'Blessed be. Blessed be the good De- 
moiselle, so kind to the unfortunate! Blessed be the Field 
of Charity!' The Virgin extended her hands in a gesture 
of benediction; the Child took from his fair head the scarf 
and gave its ends to two cherubim who flew out of sight 
bearing it in opposite directions. It grew in the infinite 
expanse of the heavens until it formed an immense and 
marvelous triumphal arch, beneath which, to the sound of 
celestial music soft and sweet as the sighing of the wind 
through the woods, parsed the Virgin and her Son, followed 
by the choir of angels and cherubim. 

"Then all disappeared. 

29 



"But when the young- g-irl arose, in place of a few scat- 
tered heads she saw a new harvest standing upright, as 
abundant as it was miraculous, and the little pile left by 
the divine gleaners had become a large and lofty stack. 
The wondrous scarf still shone resplendent in the sky. 

"Since that time, after storms, wherever there are kind 
and generous souls God allows the Scarf of the Demoiselle 
to appear before the astonished eyes of men, in memory of 
the good chatelaine.'' 

"But," said I, as the old shepherd finished his tale, 
"the rainbow is older than that; it dates from the deluge." 

"Oh yes," replied the old man, shaking his hoary 
head, "yes, for learned men who read the Bible, and for the 
inhabitants of the land where Noah's ark stopped; but we 
of the West think this story more beautiful; we believe 
it firmly; and all our old people will tell you that the rain- 
bow is simply the Scarf of the Demoiselle, placed in the 
sky by the infant Jesus, and held there by two angels of 
the good God." Mary C. Hukd. 




io 



%^duLL, bi^^^AJiJ ryJpnry^ ^^^ nnrxJJj^ 




S-, 



'1/ tf i ' ^ ^ 



ei/to^ «^ 







Oo "~WA''o\'e one n ol^ 1 o n ■? a P( 



/nnd mv I'ttte ones dt p'o-v ( laims ^^9e ncxrne oL'nUvpal'; 

e P^n^'C lau'i, scjr 



H/e'Tbia o\/e/ da.y 6y dcLV. vThiie P^T^^^ 'iaul,scjr and low, 



nr 



/Ml Oay i< 

%;para 



:ome c3Lnd 60, 



oav lonp th&Y come camo 
y pod O-no 1 iRpy 



^^'-i^pUoe '/ 



v.ou.ld llie Tenoev pocl' knovv 
li 11 my wet ^H^C^ busy oay ! 
l/\o he see my oabe'o oJ play 
Uio J16 near ineiv IVeciuenl Ca 
[0/ losr oaV'oi' Tvaanl' oali ! 
Kow Knew he nhe vyeal o 







'.or^t\ypai' Qn^-rnTpvi--"' 



v woe 

oe ? u 



rmi 



>;o ?Oj- 



11/ y^ ocxv ion6 Tney come cxr; 

r/ W- Hi'/ so 

)_Nei ncLtr?»n^ r° o-rjc) 4-v o, 

Ko^& rno/e Wuneso^Tje inanlhernsewe 









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^ixJL'kLj '%^:h£<JU \\J(,>fy>^ ^tyyo ^viy^ " 



ex. Tneir pveseince as (ney po,— 
liiTypcrt and lippyToe. 









-JH 



le Cino pe 



iT^^, 



i\^ J^ 'TUl ^oy \oyd Tn€.y conji 

,<• t'^WpoV and \»ppylo£. 






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121 ---•^ 1 I ppyloe . 

^W OQyj iond "W-jey Come an^ X^o. 

Lpt lad Witts \oVe anO 1 ii<?s, warm Mow. 

/ — \ [t ^ , ' 

Vuncino "thrc (Too(!i=QiMrcn StretK O'**^ AJ/^ <.**^ /a4«n^ ^t^w 

^ r ! I I 

'o 'W^t, 5unsl-jij-ie,inlo 5[70u^€ 
^ / ^ / / / / 

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Qome, and ^O,— 



M'(r\ty^-, 1^ OL n cT^ 



\ «pnyTo6^ 

»U nifM" ^loe.^ "the 



■Sunset pIovX 




pnut^Uye \VainJ' 
Ijeodino -iov a sWett 

M'orn "the Sonos Viiey >o^^ 
~\he oesU 

PCrjh 1 lull -VCjcm ^ Vitl^ Poomea -ilidd: lncxn(i -TvoYvn ln£r l^ecx.is ii he^^ 
\l 4L ' f , V^ """^V^^ «,hut" voxjLr Vvvo evewnat Q-ve weQ.rv my SVviii: 

V-aov slovsl BU o(x^^ lond "^nev come an<3 ^o,— 

$lea.\s V'^irlyptxP '\)"ttYpat cxnc) \ippvtoe',' 

\\\\\\ "tVieiv l^ecxvls'now XuU oCwoc 
lOA- \\^\\^ poet" 4-riend ot vesl'p 



1 I i 



olecpihA in Qo.c^'s Here' blcsl^^ 
J\nh -tWv 6ej) ,ye Ivy A iUc ciinrji 
Qv-nTfis -Veebic h^Hte' rliyme, 
Tov ihe one o&lo/ed So 
' J V I itty p a 1^ ct n c)-^'7urpytor. " 

— * Cvla/o,* Gi ft) /do r ^» C Ou\ 



Son * 



? 




Vie nVownies nave betn in Grai 
VcLfe m (jc^fStex'j Wncn Ane yellow Ojial ^clden- 
Were fa-Wm^ tlyi'cll anA X<xsl' .jrVcprrt "thXtrjOLi 
one nidlil' to j{o^A\i H^a^emy Srvetl": "Tnc 



\n Prea\' heoLps oJ^<|>f>p "Wne A^'\Ykv% on < 



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e>A\M\lou-\'is 





UDOn tU hovse Uockv -^e ^lovyin^ Haryeb h'^lyte^ up -fjpr. 
\6a>/£s -\\^at v/e^'e shU on Ue; ti-ctb WW \\ie^ slyoye i'.ke ^t'eal' 
Poloer^ oorne«,. 

vUien iV/e people Wlio ha^ Sol aboui 'iV/en- 
larnp5 wiV\i (^I'awn 5lna.de=> looWec) ou^ ojl "thci/ winocws'thc ye/l" 
rriovnir)p iV^Y Saw only a . I o « 6 "+^0.11 oi cxshes Whei'E "Vhe^ 
OC CD ArUr^ oL Uo-Ves hoLc) la\t^_j; ^g_^ __j-^=g^_^^^^^ 

^'^t LeioYe.'^UT'e-n "Hiey knew "\l7atl-^l^__- "^^g 
The Mnvowrwcs Vyao ovi 
be^un iUfc\x' loMz: 
noix^eclecLnin^ Q.no 
"WjaV" if ><vou.\^ Soon Ipe 




Note— The Student Brownie is a Galesburg- habitant. 

J7 







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Lincoln at 6cttysburg, 

On a brig-ht November after- 
noon, when the autumn leaves were 
ting-ed with a thousand hues of 
beauty, upon an eminence in the 
midst of a g-reat plain bounded by 
lofty mountains, I saw a vast con- 
course of men and women. I saw 
among- them illustrious warriors, g-ifted poets, and profound 
statesmen. I saw ambassadors of mig-hty empires, g"ov- 
ernors of g-reat commonwealths, ministers of cabinets, men 
of hig-h position and power. I saw above their heads, upon 
every hand, a starry banner, drooping- under the weig-ht of 
sombre drapery. I saw men and women standing- among- 
new made g-raves, overwhelmed with g-rief which they 
vainly endeavored to conceal. I knew that I was in the 
midst of a people bowing- under great affliction, of a land 
stricken with sorrow. I knew that the tide of destruction 
and death had not ceased to ebb and flow, but that at that 
moment the fate of my country was trembling- in the bal- 
ance, — her only hope in the fortitude and valor of her sons 
who were baring- their breasts to storms of shot and shell 
only a few miles away. 

I saw standing- in the midst of that mighty assembly a 
man of majestic but benignant mien, of worn and haggard 
features, but whose eyes beamed with purity, with patriot- 
ism, and with hope. Every eye was directed towards him; 

i9 



and as men looked into his calm, sad, earnest face, they rec- 
og-nized the great President, the foremost man of the world, 
not only in position and power but in all the noblest attri- 
butes of humanity. When he essayed to speak, such sol- 
emn silence reig-ned as when, within consecrated walls, 
men come into the presence of Deity. Kach sentence, slow- 
ly and earnestly pronounced, sank into every patriotic 
heart, g-ave a strang-e lustre to every face, and nerved 
every arm. In those utterances, the abstract, the condensa- 
tion, the summing- up of American patriotism, were con- 
tained the hopes, the aspiratipns, the stern resolves, the 
consecration, the dedication upon the altar of humanity, of 
a g-reat people. 

From the time of that solemn dedication the final 
triumph of the loyal hosts was assured. As the 
Christian day by day repeats the solemn words of prayer 
g-iven him by his Savior, so the American Patriot will con- 
tinue to repeat those inspired sentiments. While the Re- 
public lives he will continue to repeat them, and while, real- 
izing- all their solemn sig-niiicance, he continues to repeat 
them, the Repiihliczvill live. Clark K. Carr. 



40 





i cAN EVERGREEN 




ACT I. 

.4 boy inid girl stem ding in the door 
'of a tiny chalet at Griiidelzvald. 

Girl. Ach Hans! Do you see the 
/ small tree? Mutter, Mutter, come 
here! There's a new baby tree in 
the snow. 

Mother. {^From zvithin'] Pla j bj 
I'm hard pressed by the work. 
Boy. A tree's not so much to see. The yalley's full 
of them. 

Girl. S^Stooping over a young evergreen near by^ and 
whispering to //] I've seen you, little tree, and I know jou 



yourselves, Kinder. 



must be awfully cold. My toes are always cold all winter, 
but it is most time for the sun to shine 'round this corner 
and then you'll feel so beautiful. \_She runs into the house 
and returns zvith two pieces of bark. Puts the hark up about 
the tree~\ This will keep off the wind, and I'll pile the snow 
all around your roots. You can be my tree now and I'll 
take care of you. 

ACT II. 

The Tree. Ach! the sun's rays have kissed me. The 



Madchen is so 
My roots 
for the 
Ach! 




g-cod to send the sun this way. 
have not pressed forward far, 
g-round is very cold and hard. 
I'm shivering- so. That wind 
which comes to chill me must 
be straig-ht from the g-lacier 
behind the Kinder's cha- 
let. My Madchen was 
very kind to tell me that 
it was spring-time 
now, but the spring- 
winds are sehr kalt. 
Ach! 'tis the Mad- 
, chen's voice! 

Girl comes out of 
the chalet^ knitting a 



sinall blue sock and singing slowly : 

I'm coming- to you, O tree! O tree! 

Yo — del — yo^ — del, 
I'm coming- to, you, O tree! 

Yo — del — yo- — del. 



Himmel! the poor tree! The harsh wind has torn the 
bark away, and jour poor branches are twisting- all about, 
and there's a pile of snow on you, too. {^Brushes snow off 
and re-arranges the shelter. Sits down beside the tree; her 
knitting drops in her lap and she puts her arms about the tree} 
AchI my little tree, I^m sore distressed. The Mutter beat 
me this day. Yes, 'twas schiver. She took the Alpenstock 
from the chest where it rests and she struck me the full 
force of the Stock three times. I can't show jou how it 
was; 'twould hurt you so. Ach! 'twould hurt you so, 
mein Baum. You see, Hans and I were up to see if the 
g-lacier was melting-, for the Vater said last nig-ht that the 
water would be coming* down in torrents from the mountains. 
But torrents there were not — just a wee bit of a stream 
that you could hardly spy. Hans pushed me once and the 
crevasse nig-h swallowed me up. Hans told the Mutter and 
then she stocked me, because I'm the first-born and oug-ht 
to know better. I'm so g-lad that you're the weest tree in 
the valley, or the other trees mig-ht stock you. {^Buries her 
head in the branches. 

Mother. {^Calling from the door'\ Gretchen! Gretchen ! 
There's the wood to fetch. 

Gij-l. \_Ji(mping up'] Ach, so. I must g-o to her. 

ACT III. 

SCENE I. 
THREE MONTHS LATER. 

The Tree. The summer is my love and the sweet sun 
claims her, too. Ach! but I care not; I share the warmth 

43 



of each. Warm! everj^thing- is warm in summer. I shake 
mj g-reen branches and the warm air floats all about me. 
Even the sound of the rushing- g-lacier-stream is warmed 
before it reaches mj ears. Himmlische warmth! Even when 
I look at the snow afar off on the mountain tops, I realize 
the more how warm I am. I am so happy, so snug- and 
warm. 

SCENE II. 

Box and girl picking berries in the valley. Sudden sound 
like tliunder in Ike mountains as an avalanehe eonies tearing 
down. 

Boy. \^Stopping zvork and looking ' round ^ There's a 
smacking- somewhere; isn't that a joll}^ rumble? 

Girl. \^Pi eking berries'] Hans! Hans! Perhaps it 
killed somebody. 

Hans. Killed the Kuh. 

Girl. My basket's full. \_Takes both baskets'] Let's 
come and sit under m}^ Baum, and eat the berries. \_Start- 
ing to run] First there, g-ets the big-g-est basket. 

They run up the valley and see all the pastures on one 
side of the chalet covered zvith snow; the chalet itself is half 
buried in a mass of snow and ice. 

Girl. ID rapping baskets] The Mutter! Ach, Hans! 
the Mutter! 

Boy rushes zvildly tozvard back of house, zvhich is barri- 
caded by snow. With a terrified scream^ he turns suddenly 
and sees his fuother^ who is searching for her children and 
calling loudly. 

Boy. Ach, Mutter! We're here! ,. 



Mother. Und die Sch wester? 

They look and see the sister riveted to the spot zvhere she 
stood^ the berries all spilled about her. 

Mother. Gretchen! GretchenI come here. 

Girl. {^Bursting into tears and throzving herself on the 
ground~\ Mein Baum! Ach! Mutter! Mj Liebchen is 
dead! 

Boy. It's litter if vou didn't cry for your tree when the 
Mutter and I are aliv^e. 

Girl. Ach! The cruel Summer! 

Helena Crumett-Lee. 




45 



THE "PASSING OF CADMVS 



There's a new-made shrine deserted; 

There's a tripod overturned; 
There's an oracle perverted, 

And its patron saint is spurned. 

From the ecumenic roster 

They've erased the best of all; 
And the rampant, piebald poster — 

They have turned it to the wall. 

In that vacant bookshop corner 

Cadmi erstwhile joyed to meet; 
Now the sacrileg-ious scorner 

Occupies the window seat. 

Once to wear the Cadmean habit 

Was our unrestricted wish, 
When the Welsh was on the rabbit 

And the chafe was on the dish. 

From our streng-th there came forth sweetness; 

From the eater came forth meat; 
Now the club has lost completeness; 

If we meet we simply eat. 

47 



So proud Cadmus deemed us vandals; 

Girded tip his traveling- g-own; 
Shook our dust from off his sandals; 

Shook his head, and "shook" the town. 

Still the Hawthorne brews Young- Hyson; 

Still Mosaic "moseys" on; 
And the old world's broad horizon 

Still sticks out with their renown. 

Still Euterpean doth g-lad us; 

Still Fortnig-htly doth confer; 
But the Club of g-ood Saint Cadmus 

Is among- the thing's that were. 

Eaknkst Elmo Calkin? 






4S 




*,r# 




THE FIR TREE 



From tlic German of Friedrich Adolf Geisslcr. 
N THAT holy nig-ht when the 
Saviour was born in Bethle- 
hem, and the heavenly hosts 
carried the g'lad news to the 
shepherds, God sent one of His heralds to 
the German land to carry the great tiding-s 
to the world that was wrapped in winter. 

The snow^ hung- heavily upon the branches 
of the trees. It w^as bitter cold, and the 
trees all slept. But the anofel awakened 




49 



them with the messag^e that Christ, The 
Holy One, was born. 

"I know him not," said the powerful oak; 
' ' it was only yesterday morning- that Wotan's 
priest, standing- under my branches, offered 
a steed to the Father of the g-ods. The 
warm blood was spattered upon my trunk; 
and see, — there hang's the head of the sacri- 
fice. From out the roaring- of my leaves 
Wotan speaks to the races of men; who is 
g-reater than he?" 

"I know him not," said the linden; '' I am 
rooted deep in German g-round; I look afar 
over German lands; what care I for him who 
is born in a foreig-n land ? " 

"Wonderful tiding-s you bring-," said the 
aspen mocking-ly; "you tell us in this cold 
winter nig-ht of a new eternal life ? I stretch 
my bare branches out into the air; and then 
I am to believe your words ? Let this God 
whom you announce clothe me with foliag^e, 
and let the lir tree here bear sweet fruit; 
then wall I believe what you tell us." 

The ang-el turned to the fir tree. But she 
was silent; for she was filled with awe, and 
reverently bowed her slender form before 
the messeng-er of God. And the ang-el 
breathed upon her; and behold, — the heavy 
snow melted from„her branches; and the lit- 
tle fir tree was adorned with sweet fruits. 

50 



The naked boug-hs of the aspen were cov- 
ered with foliag^e; but the young- leaves 
trembled and quivered before the g^reat won- 
der that had come to pass. 

And the angel said, "Thy leaves shall 
always tremble, to remind thee of thy mock- 
ery. But thou, dear believing- fir, shalt be 
a happy tree. As often as the holy night 
descends upon the earth shall thy branches 
bear fruits and sweet thing-s, so that every- 
one who rejoices in thee shall be reminded 
of the wonderful mystery of Christmas 
nig-ht. 

And such a tree the Christ Child makes 
ready for you on Christmas eve. Steal 
quietly into the room some time when the 
candles are burnt out and sit alone under its 
branches and it will tell you its own story. 
Alice B. Cushing. 








Old o| iar)iu&^b' into ^I'l^lit, 
LiU aLuclV&T tVourt cas\ 



IkUS to ])£ W ll&^i^ ^^^%5 



Or mr-} Woii^l Bysumji>t^^^^\ 
To kndgKiifi ^s^/^^iiN^^rW ? \^ 

\ Mis Jk)Nm^4k^^'^ 

'A ^» %%<7^^ Is siiiua 

Solved not IS % _5)gamiTi8, lllugj), ^ \r!v "^ ^ 



lah Ih; TTi^tsr^ vv/tli Ood 






H^502^ 




I ! 





A REVERIE ^^'l^^-^^-^'"''^^'^-.^^''^ 
BY THE ^---c..>v.,/*'-*^ 

HEATHER — ^''^' 



Ay, ay, what dreams hae I had a' thae 3^ears ! Dreams 
o' the land— if not mj ain — still, land o' m^^ fathers. But 
what a hazy mirag^e is my rosiest dream compared wi' what 
mi' ain een look on the day ! 

Resting on this heathery knowe,^ — ahint me, the rashj 
howe, the whinstane hedg-e, the specks o' green, the near 
and distant fields o' bonnie, purple heather. Afore me, the 
tiny, thorn-bounded fields o' yellowing corn, the deep, green 
grass, where erstwhile bloomed the "wee, modest, crimson- 
tipped flow'r;" yon thicket o' bracken, ^^on rustling wood, 
yon glen wha's stony braes gie unco scant fare to the hazel 
and the rowan tree, yon burn wha's peat-stained waters rush 
noisily past the w^ee thack biggin and bid me say with 
its peasant poet: 

"Whyles ower a linn the burnie plays, 

As thro' the glen it wimples; 
Whyles roun' a rocky scaur it strays, 

Whyles in a weil it dimples.'* 

Nearby, a whinny knowe wi' its ruined keep, its crumb- 
ling wa's'wi' ivy clad. And at its foot the sleepy clachen, 
quaint and hoary; the auld, auld Kirk, wha's meenister ever 



renews its "Auld, Auld Story;" and the moss-grown slabs 
whaur "the rude forefathers of the clachen sleep." One 
modest shaft sentineled by a haw tree tells that here fell 
and rests ane o' thae saints frae wha's simple life and mar- 
tyr's death "Auld Scotland's g-randeur spring-s." 

But I maun g"ang-. The sun lang- syne's g-ane doon 
ahint Knockdohan's sombre dome, the mavds chants his 
evening- song-, 'tis noo "atweenthe g-loamin' and the mirk," 
and, tho' enchanted by nature's simple, rural beauty, yet 
my heart aye fondly turns tae a spot — if indeed no fairer, 
yet dearer — a prairie hame over the sea. 

Janet Grkig. 





-^4M^\hirJ 





TIsli and oreen cja^ l^c oieacioW an^^ 
odtKed in'lke^ few^ 

^ ^ ^ ^^-' anc! eVhe/ecx\^ b^Q.-LrTYr 9 

^ ^'^ ^ ^ "^ ^ are b'lio^ji Oiurm. yov! 
Qlt have Your snoVN^VhitT^ petolT Uen foi^^(^k€ 
"■ " -^ W "^e bancis oL'the rlnil^J'^r\- 

Vt^YV^om 'tne "^^i-assy ^botWay, ir^ac^pi^c^ and 



m 



tptell( 



lo 



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yRIl l^5\| I'lK^ ibe )-no)'n; 
■"'rhe Oay oui'^oab/^ War Dorr\. 

m^rcipvanlr yLx, ' " 

;^o wE coul6 only pue55 
vVTtnin eotrh veinec^ reU 

I ./_ /I On'e d (foci's winds 

r./,f ' 1 , n ^ ^ KoA ^roDoed i:\n?. \\1tW Beci 



^^ IolsT ^£ bxrd 




^juvaV" \n 



a Shea 



CfiTr?=)Orj bloo\-r)^ 



1: 



/^ns\Nc\-e6 rnY'Quc€\»on. well. 



r 



.n i rnrnOYte.\\c-". 



56 



My \*^^^ ^^W ^'^^- 

" I can luP^uess 
^"Who-l' \ies beViino Ihoie eyes 
So deep an6 blue. 

j\\\ I'vustiul \'5 Hie <^axp 
lYhicn rneeh rnv oWn. 
1 woitcheO Jo/ many 6ays 

Its' PeTcxls iVtlit sun 
0' loN/in-? smvl^-i. 

Jt.\\ ?,V/ljt -iV)c h<xp rr,o/e On_ 

Jovne ^Vaml'^ -Wj-v ^ound The pveol^eyes lool( 

\o leW my rn cVh 6 \'4 o/e *'iln \'ecopniTron ^v/eth 

WVjaJ' 4-1 owev will Comp InTo ii^y own. 

tvom Laby-bu-^. RLoVe ^ OirnpUci Srri\W v/ili ortel' 

The clouds, Q, Vo'i ce v)'^° answer mine. 

1 ^'''^^y i^noerress— /^y eo.6ev eyes v/oulci peev 

"Vne li'ttAe ovies ^jtyono iVje nov^/ — 

^ujfev -i^ come "b ]Vje , ^Mstjul \ k^ ^t^' Ua.' 

iT lb oi Such 
J^V K\h^c)om 9vea\ Shall Ic" 

1 bow my neac — 
Gl Visits scii \^a\U 



f] 






Qnswevec) well 

I Inavc an 

I n^ rn o vteH e ! 



'§■ 





\ 



57 




" To strugrg-le, to seek, to find, 
and never to fail." 

— A^ansc?i. 



rbc notne-Coming 

Of ^^^ 
Tborstcin ericsson 



dh 

Tf 



The Norsemen were nearing- home. For many a day 
had the rowers toiled hardily at the oars of ash. Day in^ 
day out, as they stood their shifts at the sweeps, had they 
listened to the wash of the waves ag-ainst the black sides 
of the staunch Sea-Otter, had watched the brine-drops 
g-listening- in the sun-light with the dripping- of the oars. 
But now were the sweeps hauled in-boards; and the sea- 
farers lolled idly on the rowing--benches, while the great 
sail tugged at the sheets, filling- and bellying- as it caught 
the wind, — the wind that was driving- the sea-rover on a 
fair course; now the carved otter's head at the prow climbed 
the slope of a rising- wave, now it plung-ed with a silvery 
dash of spray adown the slant of sunlit sea. With Leif , 
son of Eric, and his thirty-five sea-fellows had all happed 
luckily. In the hold a rare lading- of timber; on deck, 
tong-ues atremble with tales of marvel, of searching- and 
finding, of striving- and mastery,— thus were the viking-s 
homeward-bound, and in every man was the heart lig-ht. 
Along the sea-line, across the blue plain of swelling- tide, 
foam-flecked, lay a haze that was neither cloud-land nor 
fog--bank nor rising- mist; for here and there brig-htly 
gleamed, as with the whiteness of flame, some peak where 

59 



the ice-cap caug-ht the sun. This was Greenland, and one 
day's faring- more must bring- the Otter safe into Kricslirth 
where lay the homestead of their kin. Therefore were the 
Norsemen blithe. 

"Ho, Thorstein, son of Eric," cried one of a g-roup of 
shipmen sk^'-larking- in the waist. "Cease thy moody 
dreaming-s and sing- us some brave strain of the home-land. 
Since dawn hast thou been as g-lum as a drabbled crow in a 
rain-storm; tune up, friend mine, and let not the wind now 
do all the piping-." 

"Dcst need to be sung- at, Tyrker?" lazily answered a 
handsome, dark-haired youth, by half-a-head the tallest of 
the men on ship-board; leaning- ag^ainst the mast, with 
arms carelessly folded over his broad chest, he had indeed 
been staring- unwitting-ly toward the shore, while the sharp 
prow rose and sank with the easy swell. "Yes, Thorstein; 
a song-, a song*!" came the clamor of the g-roup; for Thor- 
stein, Leif's Brother, was a scald of some fame, and had 
the favor of men second only to Leif him.self. 

"Why, thou freckle-faced pig-my," laug-hed Thorstein, 
making- as if to hurl a thwart-iron at Tyrker, who was short 
of body and somewhat misshapen and ug-ly, albeit stout of 
limb and fond of sport. "Thou dwarf-child; didst sing- a 
song- of thine own once on a time. I heard thee chattering- 
and chanting-, thy tong-ue thick with the juice of the wine- 
berries thou hadst stored. Hast forg-otten, O Tyrker? — thy 
ship-fellows have not;" — and truly a g-reat laug-hter did 
straig-htway arise from the crowd; and sounded loudest of 
all the hoarse voice of Tyrker, for he was a g-ood-natured 
carl and even when drunk was more like to sing- than to 

60 



fig-ht, which tickled the Northmen for it worked otherwise 
with them; but Tjrker was from the South. 

" 'Tis a true word, brother mine," spoke now Leif, the 
Earl, who had come forward from the after-deck where the 
steersman stood, and where Leif Kricsson the most-while 
staid. " 'Tis a true word; and well I mind me of the song^ 
friend Tyrker sang- the day we first met the Skralings. 
Dost remember, Tyrker, the speed of thy footing-s oyer the 
sand-dunes? 'Twas a merry tune thou g-avest us betwixt 
thy breathing-s and thy heaving-s. By my shield, Tyrker, 
I bethoug-ht me of my old hound. Wolf; thy panting-s and 
thy howling-s were the very same, only I think thy little- 
leg-g-ed body rolled oyer the g^round more fleetly than ever 
Wolf had made it." 

Another burst of laug-hter, and when it was past, Tyr- 
ker, with his face a little awry, took up the word for him- 
self. 

"True, foster-son, mine," said he. "I did let the 
Skraling-s see my heel-play on the sand-hills, and mayhap 
'twas no love-song- thou heardest old Tyrker yelp when he 
was near enoug-h to reach thine ear. And I bethink me 
that had there been no dog-, Tyrker, to bark at thee that 
day, thou and thy northern men mig-ht now be asleep in 
Wineland yonder, stead of home-sailing- in Sea-Otter, and 
gibing- thy foster-father for that he is short and ug-ly whilst 
thou and thy scape-g-race kinsman there be tall and lithe. 
Nay — I be not ang-ry, Leif," he cried, seeing- a look in the 
Earl's face, "never ang-ry \\dth thee or Thorstein, Leif 
Ericsson; too much I love thee both ever to feel hard toward 
either of thee." 



"And if there were wine-juice left in the ship, old 
Tyrker, thou shouldst have thy fill," cried Leif. "In yery 
sooth, there is no man here more faithful, foster-father, 
than thou, and thou must take in good part what thy com- 
rades put on thee; 'tis a sig-n of their love for thee, and thou 
knowest rig-ht well what my brother Thorstein and I 
think/' 

"Make not a quarrel oyer my folly, good Tyrker," said 
Thorstein, pushing" his way to the old man on whose 
freckled face once more danced the laugh-light, "and to 
repay the gibe, shalt have the song thou askedst for; it 
shall tell the tale of the Norsemen's faring-; and I call it the 
'Song of Leif, the Happy.'" "But not now, brother," 
said Leif, "for here is work to do." Audit was so that 
ere this the Earl, w^ho was in all things best, in eye- 
sight and in head-w^ork first of all, had seen from the 
steerage a strange hap. "I think," said Leif, "that 
yonder is either a ship, or a skerry; and there be men 
thereon." 

And so it proved; for Leif Ericsson was in all ways 
truly safe leader, -and in this sea-faring* there came to him 
much wealth and great fame. Now w^hen the ship neared 
the skerry, behold fifteen folk stood upon the cliff and they 
seemed to be in need of help. Called Leif to Tyrker: "O 
Tyrker, take two men with thee in the skiff and go, ask 
how this folk fare and what they will." 

And when the Otter had come so near as was safe to 
the skerry, then put forth Tyrker in the small boat; and 
the land-folk came swiftly down a foot-way that led to sea- 
shore and stood there with their belongings. Now it was 



a waste land and barren of trees and rocky between the sea 
and the hill-countr}^ so that the Northmen marvelled that 
men should be there, and this the more when they saw that 
in the crowd were two women. By this the small boat was 
come within hail, and Tjrker called to the leader of the 
group, "Friend, who art thou — and hast thou need?" "I 
am called Thorer," said the man on shore, "and I am of 
northern kin; in sooth we have need and I pray you to take 
us hence, for there hath been ship-wreck; we be houseless 
and foodless, and shall starve, happen we g-et not help from 
you. But who be thy ship-fellows?" 

"We be Leif Ericsson's men and the Earl bids you and 
your folk to come aboard ship if ye have need," said Tyrker. 
Then came the g-uests aboard the Otter. Now there were 
with Thorer, who was also Earl, Gudrid his wife and their 
daug-hter, Freydis; and twelve men beside who were serv- 
ing--men and fig-hters; and had been storm-driven on that 
beach and had suffered some days. So, rig-ht glad were 
they of Leif's offer. 

But the women were aweary and some-deal faint; thus 
it happed that Tyrker, who was an awkward man at hand- 
ling* women and ever uncouth, let slip the maid so that she 
nigh fell betwixt the skiff and the ship's side; yet haply 
stood Thorstein by the g-unwale, who quickly reached forth 
with his hands and caug-ht Freydis, and she lay fainting- in 
Thorstein's arms. 

Now Freydis was the fairest maid that ever had Thor- 
stein seen. White like cream was her skin, and her hair 
that hung low down was like burnished copper when the 
sun shineth on it. Moreover she was shy before the men- 



folk and spake with her mother only, and this seemed griev- 
ous to Thorstein. But once he would g-o to Leif who stood 
with the steersman on the after-deck, where also sat the 
women and Thorer; and when the youth about-faced on 
his stride, lo, the eyes of the maiden were turned toward his 
place; bethoug-ht Thorstein never had he seen a look so 
sweet in maiden's eye before. Yet it seemed that Freydis 
saw not Thorstein, only the sea and the land beyond; 
wherefore he heard her say plainly: "There, O mother 
mine, — there is home; happy is Freydis thy daug-hter, 
happy, happy!" and Gudrid kissed the maid. Belike they 
saw not the fading- of the brig-htness from his face. 

That niofht because the wind held fair and there was 
no need to row, Thorer's troop were joined with Leif's men 
in a merry-making- near the fore-castle, while Thorer talked 
with Leif at the stern and the two women sat leaning- on 
the thwarts and listened, resting-. Then spoke Tyrker 
among- the shipmen: "Now, Thorstein, foster-son, let 
us hear that song- thou wottest of; that 'Song- of Leif the 
Happy,' I think thou calledst it." "The song-, the song-!" 
cried all. "Nay^ I cannot sing-," said Thorstein, moodily. 
''Brn-r grunted Tyrker; "be not so surly. Hast a 
g-ood voice and a fine wit; never knew I thee to be thus 
unmannerly nor whimsical before. I pray thee let us hear 
thee sing-." 

"And if I sing-, it will not please thee, Tyrker", said 
Thorstein more g-ently. "For the song- thou wouldst hear, 
that I cannot sing-; and what I will to sing-, that is of a 
sort that toucheth not thy liking; nevertheless, and as 
thou wilt." Then Thorstein sang-: 

64 



"The white-wing-ed sea-g-ull seeks the shore; 

There are storms out on the deep. 
I hear the hoarse-toned rollers roar, — 

Pear not, fair lady, sleep; 

Fear not, but sleep! 

"The raven swart now seeks the nest; 

There's a sobbing- in the pines. 
My weary soul will know no rest, 

Until its love it finds, — 

Its own love finds!" 

Now Thorstein had a strong-, sw^eet voice and it could 
hardly hap but that they on the after-deck should hear the 
song-. Still Thorer talked with Leif and the maid lay with 
her head in Gudrid's lap; maybe she was asleep. 

When Thorstein had thus far sung- the lay, broke 
Tyrker rudely in; "Now saidst thou more truly than I 
deemed, ship-fellow, when thou didst g-ive warning- that 
thy song- should not please. Such Prankish love-lays like 
me not. Better love I such brave chantings as the w^ander- 
ing- Saxon broug-ht to Brattalid; fine tales he sang- of Hroth- 
gar's Hall, and the stout sword-play of Hyg-elac's thane. 
But what aileth thee, friend Thorstein? the whole day's 
while hast thou been mooning- and g-looming- with thyself. 
May thy name-god strike me stark with his hammer but 
since thou fondled yonder maid " 

What Tyrker had yet on his tongue to say he finished 
not yet, and in good sooth it is a marvel he said ever aught 
beside; whereas in that moment Thorstein 's short-sword 
flashed in the blue moon-light, and the haft struck Tyrk- 

65 



er's skull that the old man shut his little eyes, and his 
white teeth cracked and crunched. "My name-g-od g-ives 
thee greeting-, Tyrker," said Leif's brother; "and his ham- 
mer he still keeps for a while." 

Thorstein strode aft to where his brother talked with 
Thorer. Loud rang- the laug-hter of the carls as Tyrker 
limped surlily toward the forecastle, muttering- and shak- 
ing-, whiles he rubbed his broken poll; yet what was in his 
mind he spake not aloud. 

"Well, good Thorstein," said Earl Thorer, "wilt thou, 
too, g-o a-faring- like thy brother when the summer be come 
ag-ain?" "Nay," said the youth, "that cannot I now tell; 
first is for me a quest near-by home; fail I in that quest, it 
may well be that I fare sea-ward before the summer." 

Now Thorer looked askance, but Leif, who was ever 
sharp-sighted, deemed Thorstein's riddle to be no riddle to 
him; thus he smiled, but spake naug-ht. 

That night was the moon iarg-e and shining- like a 
piece of new silver freshly rubbed, and for a while were 
they all quiet. But when the women went to their resting- 
place below deck, went down first Leif, to show the way, 
and after him followed Thorer and next Gudrid came; so 
it happed that the younger woman lingered for a while, 
looking- on the sea. Then said Thorstein: "Maid, wilt 
help me in my quest?" Yet was Freydis silent; only whiles 
she stood before the youth, she raised her e^^es, slow and 
shy, to Thorstein's eyes, that he looked straight into them; 
and the moon-light shone upon the maid's face that him- 
seemed to know of nothing half so fair on earth. "And if I 
do not know what the quest may be — my lord?" said Freydis. 

66 



With the dawn was great g-ladness on the Otter, where- 
as thej were now near-bj home. Then sailed the North- 
men g-aily with singing- of sea-song-s and with shouting- and 
smiting- of blade and brand, into that bay that is called 
Kricsfirth; and behold, Kric the Red and all the kin-folk 
were upon the beach, and there they broug-ht the Viking-- 
ship to haven, and there was feasting- and g-reat mirth; 
but among- the kindred was no man blither, says the tale, 
than Thorstein Ericsson. W. E. Simonds. 



V-'iSS^^^^^"^"' .~-i^^ 




67 




in thp Snov/ai'bund my d 
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72 



^€m4. ' 



The "Tribute to the Flag-," is a reproduction of the first three 
pag-es of a lecture on our "Duty to the Government," delivered in 
Knox Chapel, May 20, 1886. It was written in ink, whereas most of 
the Doctor's manuscripts are in pencil. 

When the editor beg-an to collect material for the "Sketches," 
Dr. Bateman was waylaid one morning- as "Old Ned" was 
slowly propelling- him along- Losey Street. After various 
pleasantries had passed, the plan of the book was broached, 
in which the Doctor was g-reatly interested; but when a 
proposition was made for the "Outside Seat" incident, he laughed 
heartily, tho' would only sa^', "We'll see." The next time the mat- 
ter was urg-ed, he asked quizzically, "Do you really want to have 
that old thing-, Professor?" The aid of his niece was then invoked, 
and she was allowed several da^^s in which to secure the coveted 
privilege; and, even then, when the editor called at "The Farm" for 
the final decision. Miss Lee followed Dr. Bateman into seclusion 
whence he had retreated, but soon returned with the triumphant re- 
ply that 'the little uncle' would g-rant the request." Soon the "little 
uncle" himself appeared, in his happiest mood, and with many a g-ay 
repartee received the thanks that g-reeted the announcement. Alas, 
that this should be the final interview! On the afternoon and even- 
ing- before Dr. Bateman's death, he spent several hours searching 
for the desired lecture, as his niece afterwards said, stopping only 
with the dusk. A pile of manuscripts of California lectures 
found on his desk testified to the thoroug-hness of the quest. The 
episode of the race, as he relates it, displays a side of the g-ood 
Doctor's character that we all knew and loved. 

The poem of Dr. Bateman's quoted here is the conclusion of the 
lecture in which the race for the outside seat is so charming-ly told. 
The day after that incident he went with a party of friends to 
"Pebble Beach," at Pescadero; and during- the afternoon he made 
his way, alone, to a cleft in the rocks of a promontory projecting- far 
out into the sea. "Does not such an afternoon," he exclaims, "give 
a new meaning to the words, 'Nearer, my God, to Thee?' Should 
not vanit)' and littleness and selfishness and meanness and all 
hatreds and despicableness be drowned to death in such floods ? 
How tempted we are to speak to that mighty personality, so corre- 
late in its passions and its calm to our own! May I confess," he 
adds, " that I found the temptation irresistible, as I sat alone, in 
that wonderful presence, on that memorable summer's afternoon." 

For the reproductions from Eug-ene Field g-iven in connection 
with Mrs. Coulson's poem, a volume of the poet's original manu- 

74 



scripts was kindly loaned b_v Mrs. Field. The photographs were 
taken under the editor's personal supervision, the precious book not 
being- allowed out of his sig-ht. In the illustration, "The Sug-ar- 
Plum Tree," of the two birds perched upon the limb the one on the 
left is a redrawing- of Mr. Field's idea of "The Dinkey Bird," as 
sketched by him at the head of the orig-inal copy of the poem of 
that name. The other bird on the limb is supposed to be "Fiddle- 
Dee-Dee." 

"Lincoln at Gettysburg-," is taken from the peroration of a Dec- 
oration Day address delivered by the Hon. Clark E. (-^arr at Gales- 
burg-, May 30, 1879. Aside from its literary value, it has a distinct 
historic interest as being the word painting- of an eye witness of 
the immortal scene it portrays. Colonel Carr was a member of the 
Commission having- the Gettysburg- ceremonies in charg-e, and it 
was at his sug-g-estion that President Lincoln was invited to deliver 
an address. 

The autograph of President Lincoln at the head of this article 
is a reproduction of a copy generously loaned by his son, the Hon- 
orable Robert T. Lincoln, of Chicago. Mr. Lincoln observed that 
he had but few autographs of his father and that these were all, or 
nearly all, affixed to bank checks, except the President's signature 
to his son's commission in the army. The autograph furnished was 
taken from a bank check made out to an insurance company, and 
was dated by Abraham Lincoln, "Springfield, Sept. 5, 1860." 

The artistic illustrations in Mrs. Cushing's translation are the 
w^ork of Walter Caspari, a personal friend of hers in Munich. The 
bit of entree work is by the same talented artist. 

To the editor of "The Interior" thanks are due for his courteous 
permission to use "The Plaint of the Leaves." 

The following comment outlines the material upon which is 
based the Norse Idyl by Professor Simonds: In the royal library at 
Copenhagen is an ancient manuscript book which contains historic 
records of the Norsemen until the end of the fourteenth century. 
That portion of the book which deals with the voyages to America 
previous to the coming of Columbus, was photographed b}- royal 
command and arranged with a translation in a handsome volume 
for exhibition at the World's Fair of 1893. Only a few copies of 
this volume exist, and by the kindness of the Hon. Clark E. Carr, 
to whose interest and effort largely, the very existence of this re- 
production is due, one copy found its wa^' to the Knox College Li- 
brary, where, under the title of "The Flatey Book," it may be seen 

75 



by all. In the chronicle descriptive of the return voyag-e from 
Wineland, occur the following- lines: 

"Sailed now after that to sea and got fair wind until they saw 
Greenland and fells under the glaciers; then took a man to speak 
and quoth to Leif , 'Why steerest thou the ship so much under the 
wind?' Leif answers, 'I take care of my rudder, but of more than 
that besides; or what do you see remarkable?' They answered that 
they saw nothing remarkable. 'I do not know,' said Leif, 'if I see a 
ship or a skerry [i. e. promontory].' Now they saw^ it and said 
it to be a skerry; he saw yet sharper than they, so that he saw men 
on the skerry. 'Now I will that we beat against the wand,' said 
Ivcif, 'so as to get near to them.' * * * Now they sailed to the 
skerry and let g-o, cast anchor, and put out another little boat which 
they had with them. Then Tj'rker asked w^ho w^as the leader of the 
party. He told himself to be called Thorer and to be of Northern 
kin; 'but what is thy name?' Leif told it him. 'Art thou son of 
Eric the Red, of Brattalid,' says he. I^eif replied that so he was. 
*Now I will,' says I^eif , 'bid you all on my ship and those goods that 
the ship will hold.' They accepted those terms and sailed after- 
wards to Kricsfirth." 

lyater it transpires that Thorer's wife, Gudrid, w^as one of the 
little company thus rescued by Leif Ericsson; but, strangely 
enough, the earlier historian makes no mention of Thorer's daugh- 
ter, Frej'dis; nor does he deal with numerous other interesting de- 
tails of the voyage, which, on his part, certainly constitutes a 
g-rave neglect of obvious duty. It is therefore to supply some of 
these deficiencies in the record that this second account of the home- 
coming of Thorstein Ericsson has been related by Professor Simonds, 
who declares that there is much more of interest yet to tell, only 
time and space forbid a longer narrative here. 

The heather spray at the head of Miss Greig's "Reverie," is a 
drawing from a bit of white heather received from Scotland within 
the last few weeks. This kind of heather is very rare and is re- 
g-arded much as the four-leaved clover is with us, being eagerly 
sought for as a token of g-ood luck. May it bring- an abundant store 
of that desirable article to every reader of this amiable little book, 
is the cordial wish of 

The Editor. 



76 



i 



p 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



017 165 466 A 4 



